


the repetition kills him.

by nately



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, School Shootings, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nately/pseuds/nately
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He did it because he could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the repetition kills him.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [рутина убивает его. (the repetition kills him.)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9795416) by [astronautsan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronautsan/pseuds/astronautsan)



 

 

It's Fall.

Yellows, oranges, and reds scatter across leaves and the chilly air sets the mood for a quiet and gorgeous season.

But Nathan doesn't see that.

What he sees is the end.

Or the beginning? He doesn't remember. His mind is numb and his fingers are frozen over the shape of his med bottle. He's thought of overdosing plenty of times before. But there's something he wants to do first.

Nathan isolates himself because he's selfish. He only wants to protect himself, even from those who want to help. But he doesn't mind a lonely life. It's not a foreign idea.

Actually, speaking of people wanting to help him…

Finally, she picks up the goddamn phone.

“Nathan? Where are you?? I've been trying to call you all day!” She starts.

“Don't go to class tomorrow.”

“...Huh?”

But he doesn't give her any room to talk. And he ignores the constant ringing of his phone.

Because he has a big day tomorrow. Everything will be fixed.

_Nathan will be fixed._

\----

“Why Arbus?”

He can hear his voice from the hall and it makes him angry. His teeth hurt from grinding them at the sound of his voice. It's the voice that made him this way. It's what took whatever normal future he could've had.

...Well, Nathan was fucked up in the head way before, but with Mark in his life it only reminded Nathan that he can't pretend to be happy.

“I could film any of you in a dark corner…”

He can't listen to this.

He steps in the room and everything seemingly pauses. And that damn man looks at Nathan with the most suave fucking smile that makes him want to puke.

“Yes, Nathaniel?”

The use of his birth name stuns him. The last time he heard that was from Kristine, and her playfully mocking him long ago. He's standing blank faced and honestly a bit anxious.

Until he hears snickering beside him. That's when Nathan snaps out of his stupor and pulls out his gun.

As fast as she giggled, Stella’s face contorts into pure horror when the gun is pointed towards her. She was the first to laugh at him, so she gets the first taste.

 **Bang**. Just like that, her body slumps into a lifeless puppet. From a breathing human being to a useless nobody in less than a _second_.

Screaming and chaos is ensuing, desks being pushed and people going mad and running for safety. But Nathan's bullets are faster. He's been practicing.

Mark is trying to get away.

 _No_.

Nathan aims his next shot and it hits right in Jefferson's thigh. He's hurting now. And it's music to his ears. Nathan will save him for later. Like saving a meal as leftovers. When he finally indulges himself, the final meal will be delectable.

More faces of more people are being erased. No more of that fat ass edgy bitch. Also that one chick who thinks she's Victoria's best friend. And kids outside the class hearing the gun shots to ‘investigate’ gets put in front of Nathan's gun. His weapon. His finger. The trigger.

An obnoxious color shouts for Nathan's attention, and he sees a girl cowering in the corner.

Really? A deer shirt? She couldn't have done better?

And she's trying to be a damn hero, shielding Kate Marsh, crying like the skeleton bitch she is.

He doesn't even know her name. But it doesn't make it any less satisfying when only one shot to the forehead makes her so called brave dumbass slump on Kate's lap, vulnerable and pathetic.

Kate isn't making any noise, but she's alive. She's staring doe eyed and purely petrified at her friend's dead corpse on top of her. The suddenly small girl slowly looks up with a waterfall streaming down her face. “Please...kill me…” She sputters out, but something catches in her throat and her pleas are reduced to whimpers and desperate cries.

Aww, how sweet.

Nope. He'll spare her. Let her live with the fact that her friend and savior is dead and she can't do anything about it. _Merry fucking Christmas dumb Jesus whore._

Nathan never believed in God. She's a Christian, right? So answer him this; what God would even allow Nathan to exist?

Or Mark Jefferson to exist?

Nathan turns around to see Mark stumbling out, the bastard actually believing he'll live.

Not on Nathan's agenda he won't.

He approaches Mark, raising the gun. The older man senses Nathan nearing him and holds his hands out. “N-Nathan…” He coughs outs, gripping his thigh and grunting at the pain.

Why is Nathan's hand shivering? This is what he wanted, goddammit! To see Mark begging for his life, hurt just like he hurt Nathan and those girls.

This was the man who deceived Nathan.

This was the man who pretended to be a father.

This was the man who praised Nathan.

This was the man who yelled at Nathan.

This was the man who dosed and raped Nathan.

This was the man who killed Rachel.

The repetition kills him.  
The repetition kills him.  
The repetition kills him.

 **Bang**.

And just like the other bodies, Mark is dead. Slumped on the floor never to get back up. Is this all humanity is? Just meat walking around with fabricated lies and malicious intent? And to be all taken away by such a small, mundane weapon anyone can get their hands on. It seemed too _easy_.

The lucky ones evacuated the school, some only have to hear the gunshots to start running for their lives. Others on the floor in a pool of their own blood. Students Nathan knew. Students Nathan never seen before. Women. Men. Ugly. Gorgeous. Straight. Gay. White. Black. Good. Bad. Doesn't matter when they're dead.

Nathan's cool with the police manhandling him to the ground and taking his gun. He came here and did exactly what he set out to do. And now he's finished.

He's allowed to breathe now.

\----

4 October

Prison isn't so bad in the beginning. They stripped Nathan to make sure he didn't have anything to kill himself with and probed his ass to check for weapons. Why they didn't just use x-rays, he'll never know. But honestly he doesn't care. They gotta do their job.

They give him a cell that looks just like in the movies. But it's much more uncomfortable than Hollywood's interpretation. The bed is rock hard and the toilet is intertwined with the sink. The floors have at least thirty diseases on it and the place reeks of both a poisonous smell of metal and beefy men breath.

But Nathan is calm here. Damn near relaxed. It's different from the daily grind of repeated acts. Wake up. Shower. Take sanity pills. Get dressed. Attend class. Take photos. Bitch to dad. Bitch to Mark. Needles. Touching. File shit. Break speed limit. Party. Get drunk. Pass out. Rinse and repeat.

The repetition of Nathan's life.

the

repetition

The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. The repetition kills him. 

The repetition kills him.

It's all on repeat. And now it's reset.

Nathan chuckles to himself, and soon it erupts to full on manic laughter.

He's free.

He's breathing now.

\----

17 October

A guy Nathan doesn't know the name of visits him every once in a while.

The unfamiliar boy requesting to speak to Nathan was a surprise indeed. He does look a lot like a kid in his Science class, but maybe it's not him? Besides that, it's kind of off putting to be visited by someone Nathan doesn't even know. Especially since these past thirteen days, they still haven't said not one word to each other. He would just come, sit on a stoll outside Nathan's cell, stare for about an hour, and leave.

Nathan knows how intimidating his icy blue eyes can be when stared at for too long, but it doesn't seem to faze the brunette. In fact, it's like he tries to battle Nathan in a staring contest, weakly tearing down Nathan's walls with his softer brown eyes.

Of course, the silence can't last forever.

“I had a crush on you.”

Nathan blinks. Two questions instantly pop to mind.

“‘Had’?” He asks first.

“You're a murderer.”

Nathan scoffs. _Great fucking answer, douchebag._

“Why?” Nathan decides to ask his second question. This time however, the boy actually pauses in thought.

“I don't know.”

“Then don't even bother anymore. Because I don't even know who you are.” Nathan bites, and he feels a small swell of pride when the guy cringes.

“I know,” He deadpans and sighs. "It's Warren.”

Nathan raises his eyebrow, wanting to ask Warren why he would confess to liking Nathan before introducing himself. But he let it slide. Even if their relationship miraculously possessed potential, it's long gone now. Opportunity thrown away and ended before it began.

Warren leaves early, mumbling about having to be home by seven.

Nathan thinks this kid is odd.

But Nathan decides not to think anymore.

Instead, he closes his eyes, lies down on his bed, and wills for sleep to take over. He's done with today...let this be over with.

\----

20 October

“Y’know, when I first visited you, I planned on screaming and yelling at you, about how much I hated you and wanted you dead for what you did. But I didn't.”

Nathan looks up from playing with the loose fabric of his pant leg. “So? What's stopping you?”

“I wanted to tell you I had a crush on you. And after that I didn't know what to do next.”

This makes Nathan's blood boil.

“You like me…” He says.

“Well, uh, not ‘like’ like you. Just… I don't know…”

Nathan grips the bedsheets under him. “You don't like me. You don't even fucking know me. No one knows Nathan Prescott.”

"Oh?"

“You don't even know me.” He repeats.

“No, I don't.” And with that, Warren leans back, as if he's admitting defeat. But no, Nathan knows better. Warren's mocking him, and it's annoying.

Nathan scoffs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

\----

25 October

The next day Warren visits is one of the worst. After mindless chit chat, the whole damn time Warren is humming. After about ten minutes of listening to the same twenty second long melody on repeat, Nathan finally realizes it sounds a lot like Humpty Dumpty.

“Quit that.” Nathan growls, fed up and positively annoyed. He doesn't think he can ever hear the song again without ripping his eardrums out.

Warren pauses mid hum, blink as if he just now realized what he was doing, and flashes Nathan a thumbs up.

But even so, Warren continues humming.

“Quit. THAT.” Nathan barks, his fists clamping up and his face starts to heat.

“Or what? You're gonna shoot me too?” And he keeps on humming.

\----

4 November

Ten days pass and no visits from Warren. Not that Nathan minds. He doesn't care. He didn't even notice a week and three days passed until Warren decided to show up for the first time in November, with his eyebrows dipping dangerously low and a permanent frown etched across his usual poker face.

Warren sits down angrily on the stool, and they sit staring at each other in heavy silence. Nathan almost believes that they're back at square one, staring in each other's eyes until the other gives up.

But no, wait. This time is different. Warren's leg is impatiently rising and falling alongside his rapid foot tapping against the concrete below. He's got his back abnormally straight the seat with no support. His breathing is slightly audible and is constantly skipping beats and ragged.

Nathan's waiting for Warren to explode.

Warren suddenly jumps up from the chair and throws himself against the bars, glaring down at the blond.

“Why?” Although Warren looks quite scary standing over Nathan despite the bars protecting him, when Warren opens his mouth to speak, it sounds weak, small, and a bit scratchy. Like he's been crying.

Ah...so the pain of what happened finally caught up.

“‘Why?’” Nathan echos. “I wanted to create art. He said I have so much potential. That I'm going places. That if I just always take the shot, I'll only get better,” Nathan grins at the memories of Mark's words. Although he hated Jefferson's guts, Nathan lived purposefully for his fatherly like advice. “I remember...Victoria going on about how everyone is competition to her 'skills'. And it got me thinking. She's right. With so many other students on the same road as me, there's no room for happy fun times with friends and shit. The people who use to sit next to you will one day stomp all over you to get to the top. All I did was eliminate the competition. Now, I can continue. No one can call me out on failure because there's no one to compare my failures to. With just me in the game, every score is the high score.”

It feels oddly amazing to let that all out. Nathan's been keeping it all to himself lately. It could drive a man mad. But Nathan's not crazy. He knows this.

Nathan doesn't mind it that Warren just stands there and stares at him in quiet disbelief.

Maybe another day he'll understand, or never. Nathan doesn't mind either, just another useless human who should've been on the other side of Nathan's gun that day.

\----

13 November

They don't say anything to each other for a solid hour and a half. And when the guard tells her she can't stay much longer, is when she finally speaks up.

“Nate...is this because of me?”

Nathan actually smiles at this. Whether it's genuine or not is up to her. “No.”

Kristine bites her lip and casts her eyes down at the cement ground. "I didn't know you were this far gone…”

“Do you have any idea what I've been through when you left?”

"...I didn't see the signs..." She says more to herself than anything.

“You weren't there to protect me. You said you would come back. But you didn't. I was so lonely. I'm a psychopath to them. They would whisper to their friends to stay away from me. They would beat me. And I would crumble.”

Kristine wipes a stray tear. “Why did you do this?”

“Because I could.”

\----

14 November

“Do you get any other visitors other than me?” Warren asks.

“My sister flew down here yesterday. And a whole bunch of strangers.”

“Strangers?”

“The families of the victims. They come up here and ask why I did what I did.”

“...Do you tell them what you told me?”

Nathan looks up at the stone ceiling. “No. I just sit and listen to them crying their eyes out. It's like I'm throwing a fucking pity party for someone random everyday. But lately, I've mainly gotten a visit from the parents of some girl called Max. They're pissed beyond hell at me.”

From the corner of his eyes, Nathan can't miss Warren tensing and frowning.

“That's because you murdered her. Along with so many other innocent people.”

Like Nathan needed the reminder. “I know. But I don't _care_. I wish they'd just leave me alone.”

Nathan flinches when Warren bangs up against the bars, much louder than the last time and still seated. His face is red in heat and his knuckles are white and death gripping the bars. “She meant the world to me and you don't _care_??”

Nathan looks at Warren right in the eyes. “ _Nope_.”

Warren huffs out and loosens his grip. He hides his face with his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. Nathan can't see his face, but he assumes the boy is crying.

“I hate you, Nathan Prescott.”

\----

16 November

“Your kill count went up one last night.”

Nathan doesn't respond and waits for Warren to continue.

“Kathryn Marsh committed suicide two nights ago. She slipped through police tape at Blackwell and jumped off the girls dorm building. In the honor of her deceased friends."

“Am I suppose to care?” Nathan asks, and as snarky as it sounded, he's actually midly curious.

“I just thought you'd either feel ashamed or jump for fucking joy at all the destruction you've caused, you…”

Nathan looks up at Warren. “‘You’ what? Psychopath? Murderer? Monster? Or do you have something else to call me? Just make it fucking creative because I've already heard every name in the goddamn book.”

Warren leaves.

\----

19 November

“I forgive you.”

Nathan rolls over to face Warren, not feeling up for sitting upwards properly.

“You forgive me?”

“Yes.” It's a firm yes, but slightly strangled in a way.

“I killed your friends and people you knew. I drove your last remaining best friend to suicide and you forgive me?”

“Yes.” It's much more weaker now.

“No. You're not ready to forgive me, Graham. Go home.”

But Warren sits down on the stool anyways.

“I spoke to Victoria. She said you told her to stay away from class. I thought you didn't care who you killed.”

“I don't. If I saw her, I would've shot her too.”

And it's the truth. He made the phone call to protect her. It'd be her own fucking fault if she attended anyways. Nathan would've felt honored to erase such stupidity from the world.

Warren studies Nathan's face for a long moment, trying to search for a lie in his statement.

Apparently, he can't find one.

“I pity you.”

“It's a waste of time.” Nathan sighs and rolls back over to face the dark grey tile he's grown accustomed to. But he still feels the oddly warm presence of Warren near him, even if it's protected by metal bars.

“Do you enjoy being locked up?”

“Well, I get raped everyday, the food is cold and mushy, and people like you constantly visit me to try and either make me feel like shit or humanize me. So it's fucking peachy.” His tone is the definition of sarcasm.

“You've done worst to those students.”

“...So then I guess I'm getting exactly what I deserve?”

Warren says nothing.

“Could you stop visiting me?”

“...Why?”

“I like being alone.”

There's a small silence, and that's when Warren breaks.

“You know what? I'm done tolerating you. Do you really think this is okay, that you fucking committed mass murder?? Fuck it, you _are_ a psychopath. You _are_ a murderer. You _are_ a monster. And that's all you'll ever be. And you'll die here, sad and alone, Nathan.”

Warren's breathing is steadily getting out of control; Either he's frightened of what slipped through his mouth or he's tired of it all.

“Okay.” Nathan simply whispers.

\----

23 November

“I thought I told you not to visit me.”

Warren scoffs and crosses his legs. “You can't tell me what to do.”

“Fine then.”

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the distant buzzing of a light fixture and mumbles of conversations going on elsewhere, and the tapping of the nearby guards and occasional sound of keys clinking together.

"Why do you like me, Warren?"

"Back then?" Warren asks, and goddammit fucking _duh._

Warren clears his throat and slouches a bit more. 

"I'm not really sure. I guess when I saw you, I wanted to meet you." Warren looks up and a lazy smile grace his tired face. "But you were so scary and intimidating back then."

"So I'm not scary anymore?"

"Of course you are. Just not in the way you were before. Back then I was afraid you would blow up on me and yell in my face. Now, I'm nervous you'll somehow finish me off, too."

Funny, Nathan's a bit nervous he'll repeat it all over again as well.

_Another fucking pattern._

“You wanna know what I think?”

Warren is a bit startled, whether it's because Nathan is actually contributing to the conversation willingly or he's actually opening up, he don't know. “What?”

“I think I killed you that day. I think I ruined you a lot like how I ruined Kate. Difference is that you're too afraid to die, never mind being left alone with your thoughts. And now you hate me because you can't be with your friends, but you tolerate me because you delusion yourself into thinking I can heal you.”

Warren stares at Nathan, trying to read him through his eyes. All he sees is pale brown eyes over heavy dark bags. It's like a dead fish.

“I honestly don't exactly hate you, Nathan.” Warren says, but he doesn't go on. 

_It's not working._

“I use to like you.”

“...You already told me that.”

“I know. But I think I gotta say it again, because for the last time, I don't hate you. It's in between, I think.”

“...You're such a stupid person, Warren.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

\----

30 November

“Warren do you think I'm crazy?”

“...Yes.”

“Why?”

“If you don't even know why, then you've no hope of understanding why.”

“Mhm…” Nathan murmurs simply. He looks down and starts to play with the fabric of his jail clothes, but when he feels a pair of eyes watch him, he immediately stops. Lately, Warren's been bothering Nathan with _little_ things. He hates the way the brunette stares at him. It's nothing like the spiteful or pitying looks he gets from his other visitors. It's _unreadable_. And it scares him.

So he'll scare Warren away instead.

“Do you want to know what happened with Mark?”

Nathan watches as Warren's expression morph from shock, to confusion, and a grimace.

“Mark Jefferson? Max's photography teacher?”

“Yeah.”

“What about him?”

“He drugged girls to take pictures of them in the Dark Room.”

Nathan isn't surprised when Warren blinks twice and bury his face in his palms.

“...What?” Warren whispers.

“He wants innocence. He can capture it on film. So I drug them, bring them to him, and he takes his photos. The small phase between unconciousness and awareness from the drugs is the innocence.”

Why is Nathan explaining this to Warren again? And why is the other calmly listening?

But he continues. Because someone IS listening. It's all Nathan needs.

“They don't remember what happened to them. He taught me how to take photos his way. He showed me what innocence was…” Nathan falters, because he knows what happens next. It's where he's naive. It's where he gets hurt. It's where he blames himself.

But Warren stays silent, staring down in the general direction of Nathan's feet dangling off his bedding.

“He was my father.”

Warren looks up at this, but not a word comes out.

“So every time I fucked up, he would scold me. But he never forced me to do anything. So it was all my fault when Rachel overdosed. After that, the praises and teachings started to vanish. He would snap at everything I did. He would call me a child that couldn't handle the adult things.”

Nathan opens his eyes (When did he close them?) and smiles at Warren, despite the warm streaks of hot tears running down his face.

“I wanted to grow up as soon as possible. To be an adult that Mark could be proud of. So I asked him to teach me...I asked him to show me.”

By this time, Warren left. He'll be back soon.

Yes. There's no other way, Warren will be back.

He's probably overwhelmed. Nathan is too. He's shaking and crying. But he's smiling. Why? Maybe at the memories of his stupidity. Maybe at the memories of his naivety. Maybe at the memories of his words.

“So he shows me. He pins me down and he shows me. It wasn't what I wanted but I asked for it. It _hurt_. It still hurts. The first couple of times I just bottled it all in. But when I realized all of it was for nothing, that I fell for it thinking I was an adult now, I felt empty. I wanted to shout. I wanted to cry. But I couldn't because it was all too damn heavy.”

No one is sitting in front of Nathan. _Warren is gone_ , his brain is trying to register. But he doesn't care. He has to let this out. Even if no one will hear nor care what he has to say. His words are jumbled and almost incoherent. He's crying it all out now. He's letting go.

Nathan rubs his eyes, hiccupping and vocally sobbing as he tries to contain himself. He slowly collaspes on the solid cold bed and brings his folded legs up to his chest and hugs himself.

Nathan wishes things turned out differently.

Nathan wishes he wasn't so fucked up.

Nathan wishes he was dead.

Nathan wishes he actually felt sorry for taking all those lives.

Nathan wishes he didn't care about his repetitive and self destructive life.

Nathan wishes Warren was in here to hold him.

Nathan wishes Warren would tell him it will be okay in the end.

Nathan hopes Warren is thinking about him, unable to sleep.

Nathan hopes he dreams about him and he still can't sleep without thinking about him when he sleeps and he dreams and stays up at night.

He still doesn't know why he's crazy. He don't know he don't know he don't know. So maybe he's not really crazy. He's not crazy because he's okay. This is normal. He is normal.

It'll all be okay.

 _Soon_.

\----

10 December

“I won't be able to see you this month, so, Merry Christmas.”

“Really? Why?”

Warren lifts his left leg and it rests on his right knee. “Well, I'm staying with my family in Ohio until the start of January.” The brunette looks at Nathan who nods his head in understatement. After a few moments, he continues. “Where're you from?”

“Florida.”

“Ah. Pretty hot down there.”

Nathan shrugs. “You get use to it.”

“...Do you miss home?”

Nathan opens his mouth to correct Warren that Oregon _is_ his home. Or at least his new home. And to be more specific, this _cell_ is his new home. But then he stops and thinks about what he implied.

Yes, Florida is his real home. The place he wishes he wants to be in, not somewhere he was forced into.

“Yeah. I miss home. I guess I'm home sick.”

Warren doesn't even mention that Nathan is much more than home sick.

“So uhm, since I won't be back 'till next year, I guess this is my last visit.” And it's true. Nathan has to get transfered to a real prison. Where he belongs. And for Nathan's mass murder, it's evident that the blond won't be allowed to have any visitors. And Nathan's too mentally exhausted to request calling someone. _Who would he call?_ Maybe Warren, but Nathan is afraid of that. Not of Warren, but the affect Warren seems to have over Nathan. Because somehow, Warren is the only person right now that Nathan is okay with opening up and speaking his mind.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Nathan feels as if he should be saying something else, but nothing comes to mind. ‘ _Thanks for still visiting me, even though I murdered all your friends, rejected you, and ostracized you’_ doesn't seem like the perfect fit.

“How long will you be in prison?”

“Twenty three years.” And he won't survive it.

“...So...have you thought about what's happened? And what's gonna happen to you?” Warren asks curiously, but right after his face contorts into fluster and he raises his hands to chest level in effort to help defend himself. "I-I mean...I've seen a bunch of cop shows and investigative stories on TV, but they never really talk about what the criminal thinks...and it kinda interests me..." He falters, ending his rant, and meets Nathan's eyes. "You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to."

Nathan leans back to rest again the concrete wall. Might as well entertain Warren. And this is the last time he'll be able to see Warren, until he turns forty one. He would've changed by then. Warren would've changed by then. They'll forget each other.

But Nathan doesn't want to forget this.

“I'll get another cell. I'll be surrounded by more criminals like me.” He starts.

“Just the other day I realized just how toxic I am, just how poisoned my system is. I complain so much about the repetition of it all. I took lives just to tear away from the mundane ride of my daily routine.

“And now here I am, waiting to be slotted back into a set routine. Only this time, I have no way to break free of the chains and metal bars. I'll have to stick to a set pattern in prison for years on end.

“But this is the real kicker…” Nathan laughs. “I'll fall apart again. I'll want to do something about this again. I'll soon want to break out of prison. I'll soon want to take my own life. All just to satisfy my need for variety. But variety can't come without repetition. So it'll happen again...and again, and again and again.”

Warren is just staring at Nathan, ad it kind of worries him. _Is it…_ “Do you pity me?” Nathan asks, but he wishes it didn't sound so fucking weak.

“...No.”

Somehow, Nathan doesn't care if Warren is lying or not.

“Thank you.”

\----

4 January

“Nathaniel Prescott. Welcome home.” The disgruntled officer tips his hat, and honestly, he doesn't blame him. His job is to stand outside to greet criminals back onto _free_ land.

Nathan doesn't nod back.

Nathan instead keeps walking, taking in the scent of pine trees and the salty ocean that landmarks Arcadia Bay.

Hmm, now that he's free, what should he do first?

He surely isn't going back to the mansion. He doesn't want to face Sean. Yeah, the man bailed Nathan out even though he wasn't allowed to, and basically used all of his influential power to free him. But Nathan isn't stupid. He knows Sean is doing this to save his reputation because his dumb fucking failure of a son couldn't keep his goddamn finger off the trigger. And he also knows that once Nathan is out, he'll come crawling back to the mansion.

But Nathan won't give Sean that dominate power over him anymore.

Because Sean is stupid for letting someone like Nathan free.

In fact, everyone is fucking dumb. No matter how big of a fucking influence someone is, it shouldn't be an excuse to let a psychopathic killer loose.

But hey, you won't see Nathan complaining.

He palms the bulge in his pocket, and smiles when he feels the outline of his gun. They were even stupid enough to give him back his baby.

Maybe he'll give Warren a visit?

...And what's that sound? 

 _Crunching_.

Nathan looks down and expects to be standing on dead leaves of Fall. But in reality, it's snow. 

Ah yes.

It's Winter.

Cold white cotton litters the ground and the freezing air sets the mood for a quiet and gorgeous season.

But Nathan doesn't see that.

_What he sees is the end._

 

~fin

**Author's Note:**

> Been down lately. Not really feeling puny or great atm. 
> 
> This story was originally a really crack-ish short for my series 'Little Things', but somehow I just couldn't do it.
> 
> I scrapped it and free wrote this.
> 
> The problem with me is that I get all sad and self pitying for no goddamn reason. It just happens.
> 
> I just wanna lay down and continue to be anxious about absolutely nothing. 
> 
> And now Warren and Nathan gotta suffer because reasons.
> 
> I hope you all are having a great day though. The fact that you stuck around for this makes me smile. When really this story is just me venting my own fucking nonexistent problems.
> 
> ♡


End file.
